


I Don't Love You

by brookwrites



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Angst, M/M, Songfic, mcr songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-10 01:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15280983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookwrites/pseuds/brookwrites
Summary: Everything was crumbling under Dan’s feet, and he knew it. Paranoia was one to consume him, but this time he was right; he knew he was right. He knew his time left with Phil was limited, but, as unlike him as it was, he would be the one to cut it short.





	I Don't Love You

**Author's Note:**

> This is a songfic based off the song I Don’t Love You by My Chemical Romance, which, of course, as a disclaimer, I don’t own. Feel free to listen to it while you read! Any of you who are hardcore MCR fans will know that this isn’t the story behind the song, but I’ve put it into my own context, so don’t expect the same story as the album. Anyway, I’m glad to be writing again after literally months, and I hope you guys like it! Feel free to send me prompts, although I can’t guarantee I’ll use them. We’ll see how this starting up writing again thing goes. Hope you enjoy!

Anger. Out of all the emotions in the human mind, anger was the only one he could reach. More were tucked in the back--sadness, fear, and instability were the most accurate few--but the only thing tangible to Dan was anger. 

Time and time again his paranoia had gotten the best of him, but this time things were different. This time it was right in front of him. It was on the other side of his bedroom wall. It was in the phone he used a mere two hours ago. Phil thought he was gone; he thought he had gone to meet an old friend for the night, but he was still there, sitting on his bed. 

His bed. It didn’t seem like his bed. The amount of times they had shared the bed seemed endless, but technically it was Dan’s bed, and the anger broiling inside of him revoked Phil’s privileges to it. 

\- Well, when you go, don’t ever think I’ll make you try to stay. -

Dan knew he didn’t have much time left. He read the conversations. He knew he was second priority. It probably wouldn’t work out, but that didn’t change the fact that they’d try, and Dan would be pushed aside. 

\- And when you come back, I’ll be off to find another way. -

He’d come back, but Dan wasn’t in a position to let him. He didn’t think he could handle being pushed aside. He didn’t think he could handle being left. 

So he wasn’t going to be left. He was going to leave. 

Dan took a moment to stare out his window. The moon shone bright over the summer night, and he knew its image would accompany the sounds penetrating the thin drywall in his nightmares until the day he died. It was so beautiful outside his window, yet he was inside where every thought he had felt like another blow to his psyche. 

\- And after all this time that you still owe, you’re still a good-for-nothing I don’t know. -

He knew Phil would still be there when he woke up in the morning. If he just went to sleep then, it would be okay. But eventually his time would run out, and he would have just sat back and let it happen. He was beginning to be able to form coherent, logical thoughts, but they still were all driven by pure anger. He was still in love with Phil, and he knew he would be until the day he died, but in his mind, he was also the scum of the earth. 

\- So take your gloves and get out. Better get out while you can. -

He pulled his suitcase out of his closet. It was all his, not Phil’s. Not anymore. He sat it on his bed and began quietly and surprisingly calmly placing clothes into the suitcase. He didn’t want to disturb the activity in the flat’s second bedroom. 

\- When you go, would you even turn to say, “I don’t love you like I did yesterday?” -

He didn’t think he could even speak to Phil. That was part of why he didn’t want to make a sound. He wanted to creep out unnoticed, because he knew they’d argue if they met. He knew Phil would try to get him to stay, but he’d give up quickly, because they both knew he didn’t care enough about him anymore. 

\- Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading, so sick and tired of all the needless beating. -

That’s when it hit him, like a punch to the face, the gut, and the crotch all at the same time. Phil didn’t care about him anymore. All the love they’d shared for nine long years was gone. He thought to the day they first met in person. He thought of himself in Phil’s arms in the train station for the first time, feeling like he’d finally found the place he’d always be safe. Now the thought of being in that embrace made him feel nauseous. 

Suddenly, the rush of anger and emotion hit him. Tears streamed down his cheeks in a frenzy to empty his tear ducts, and he became careless towards his surroundings. He threw his drawers open and slammed them closed, cramming clothes into his suitcase without even bothering to fold them. He would have liked to believe his thoughts were jammed, but really they were loud and clear, attacking him from every direction. 

\- But baby, when they knock you down and out, it’s where you oughta stay. -

Finally he forced every article of clothing he cared about into the suitcase and threw in all the contents of the drawer where he kept spare cash. He wasn’t sure how much was there, but he knew it would be enough to cover the toiletries he was in too much of a frenzy to gather. Besides, he could pettily take as much as he wanted out of their joint bank account. He tried to close the suitcase, but nothing happened. At any normal point, he would have sat on the top, putting his entire weight on it to force it to close, but by then he was so irrational that he just kept trying to close it until the zipper eventually fell off in his hand from the brute, adrenaline-driven force he found himself using to close it. He stared at the metal zipper and sunk to the floor, helpless to believe anything other than the fact that the tiny, broken part was a metaphor for his broken life. And there, on the cold hardwood, he sobbed. 

\- And after all the blood that you still owe, another dollar’s just another blow. -

And that was when the door creaked open. Phil poked his head in, fully and freshly dressed in wrinkled clothes even though it was 3:00 in the morning. His hair was disheveled, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell how he had been spending his evening. 

“Dan, what are you doing here?” 

“I could ask you the same question!” Dan forced out in between sobs. “Or maybe a more accurate question would be what is HE doing here?” 

“Dan, I-” 

“Save it. I don’t want your apologies. I don’t want your offers. I’ve read your texts. I’ve seen what you really want, and it’s not me.” 

\- So fix your eyes and get up; better get up while you can. -

He forced himself off the ground and somehow forced the spare zipper to close on his suitcase. He flung it off his bed, narrowly missing Phil’s head, and shoved the black-haired man out of the way as he pushed his way through the door. For the first time ever, Dan was beginning to think the jet-black hair dye had seeped its way into Phil’s soul. 

“Dan, wait!” He heard the voice behind him, but Dan didn’t bat an eye. He kept a brisk walk towards the flat’s front door, and within seconds it was in his sight. Every step closer to it felt simultaneously like a blow to the chest and like a wild triumph. “Dan, please don’t go!” the voice got closer and closer with each call, but he also got closer and closer to the door. Finally his hand reached the doorknob, but as he curled his fingers around it he felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

It was the same hand that had been on that same shoulder the first time they kissed. It was the same hand that had held his the first time they had sex. It was the same hand that had sat beside him and written two books, and it was the same hand that had taken countless pictures of the two of them. 

But it was also the same hand that had held his. It was the same hand that typed all those text messages. And now, because of them, now all those memories were tainted. 

\- When you go, would you even turn to say, “I don’t love you like I did yesterday?” -

“Get off of me,” Dan said, in the lowest voice that had ever escaped from his mouth. 

“Dan-”

“I said get off!” He swatted at Phil’s hand with his own free hand, but he wouldn’t budge. He shut his eyes tight and swung the suitcase backward, feeling it connect with Phil’s body. He staggered backwards, and Dan opened the door, slipping out of it. 

It seemed like slow motion when he turned around and looked through the door frame. Phil was about to lunge forward towards him, but when he saw Dan looking back at him, tears pooling in his chestnut eyes, he stopped and stood upright. 

“Please,” was all that escaped from his mouth. 

Dan stared into his eyes, picking out all three colors for the last time. He did a hard blink and closed the door behind him without saying a single word. 

\- I don’t love you like I loved you yesterday. -


End file.
